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I did something the nuns who taught me would definitely NOT approve of me doing.

OK, to be honest, there’s quite a few things the nuns would not approve of, however, I am referring to one thing in particular at the moment.

When I was young, I wanted to be a nun. I think the part that interested me was that dressed in a habit, I could look like a bride every day! (Clearly, the concepts of chastity and poverty hadn’t entered my mind yet.) I was also intrigued by paranormal and psychic things – things the nuns didn’t particularly embrace – actually frowned upon quite a lot.

Sometimes too much information, to the wrong person, at the wrong time – can be a bit, well, comical – depending on how much ibuprofen you have on hand.

My youngest will be turning 4 soon. Of course in her mind she’s 14, and on an intellectual level with my oldest. So when Daughter #2, the 12 year old, asked how gemstones were measured (apparently she was momentarily bored with her new iPod), the little one’s interest was piqued and she scooted off the burgundy velvet sofa and sat down crossed-leg on her new pink bean bag chair next to us.

I’ve been dragging my feet lately regarding our move to either the Cape or Myrtle Beach. And the reason is the weather.

Putting aside the slight drought, it’s been gorgeous just about every single day. Closing your eyes and sipping a cool drink is a lot easier than poring over thousands of houses. Dreaming of running in slow motion on the beach and falling, giggling, in the sand, in the arms of that really good looking guy who jogs around the Myrtle Beach boardwalk in the mornings dressed in blue and white, is a lot more relaxing than thinking about packing and moving trucks and unpacking.

And, I’m not quite done saying my good-byes yet. I haven’t even started. The more I close my eyes as I float in my pool…

Back when he was alive, I would spend countless hours sitting down there with him. The soft red couch he had is still there and feels familiar to my skin as I tuck my legs under myself and close my eyes. This room is where I go to do serious thinking – it’s quiet and calming and all mindblocks vanish as soon as I close the heavy, carved mahogany door behind me.

The air is cool in an unusual way for late June in upstate New York, and a soft breeze moves around the smell of the developing chemicals – stored in neat rows behind a dark curtain to keep them safe from light – and it heightens my memories even more.

I started doing it on vacation. I really didn’t think I would start doing it so soon, but apparently, I am weak… and it felt so good. That surge of satisfaction knowing I was going to make someone very, very happy ribboned itself around my body and hugged me with the sensation one gets when one has a juicy secret.

What I am NOT a lover of, is coming home and discovering a white floor covering in my 6 and 8 year old daughters bedroom. Especially when this white floor covering is actually an eight foot by five foot, white alpaca fur rug. Did I mention it’s white?

“Daddy got it for us,” my six year reported excitedly as she sprawled out on it, petting it, nuzzling the long fur. “He said he saw it and just knew we had to have it!”

During storms I like to light candles. And turn off all the lights. And enjoy feeling the raw power of Mother Nature envelope me – filling my senses.

My five girls sit by the windows, watching and waiting. Watching the raindrops plunge heavily downward, using the grass and flowers and little red wagon as trampolines. Waiting for my “OK” (for the lightning and thunder to pass) to run outside – barefoot, of course – and cover each other with globs of mud and then rinse that mud off in the torrential downpour.

“Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.” ~Elizabeth Stone

First of All…HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!!! Warm hugs and kisses to all you ladies whose hearts live outside your bodies…

Second of all, this post will be a shorter than others, only because, not only did I get my wish for a LONG, uninterrupted HOT shower (thank you girls for playing nicely during it)…I am about to get a massage. And although I have never tried it, I suspect writing while getting one would be rather tough…

In the scorching heat of the European summer afternoons, after the rain sprinkles it’s last luminous drops of refreshing water, the young people in Poland (at least in the mountain village my mother’s family lives in), grab their baskets and quickly make their way into the woods. To “gather mushrooms”.

At least that’s what they tell their parents…

I can still remember the first time I went “mushroom gathering”. My cousin and I were cooped up playing poker in the bright yellow kitchen (I was losing miserably), and she kept pulling aside the delicate white lace curtains and sighing at the rain. All of a sudden, she grabbed my wrist and yanked me up…